


non sum qualis eram

by archeryian



Series: hills of loss and longing [1]
Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, F/M, and lots of stupid yearning, bc this is what happens when you keep secrets, there's fairstairs if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archeryian/pseuds/archeryian
Summary: Though Stephen and Amatis Herondale were nothing like them, echoes of London and long dead loved ones reverberated through Zachariah’s mind as the day wore on.In Stephen’s careful blankness he saw Cordelia, though his cousin had been filled with exhaustion and hurt, not blinded by bigotry and misguided ideals.James had been similar to Amatis; hidden tears and unbridled pain. The only difference was James had accepted a divorce because he’d believed he deserved it, Amatis didn’t seem to have the fight in her.On a cold day in 1990, Brother Zachariah begins the process that ends Stephen and Amatis’s marriage. It's not the first Herondale divorce he's overseen.
Relationships: Amatis Graymark Herondale/Stephen Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale
Series: hills of loss and longing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863979
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	non sum qualis eram

**Author's Note:**

> This was borne out of my predictions for TLH, my eternal love for Jem, a soft spot for Amatis, and years long interest in Stephen Herondale. (I’ve only read a few of the novellas so I don’t know if Jem ever met Stephen but I imagine if he did he was disappointed.)
> 
> There isn’t much information on Shadowhunter divorces. To me, it made more sense to have the Silent Brothers deal with them because they’re the archivists and deal with other Nephilim more than the Iron Sisters, who rarely leave the Citadel. Still, I didn’t want to ignore the little info we do have (which is an Iron Sister is the one to cut the marriage runes) so they come in at the end of the process. 
> 
> Title is taken from Book 4 of Horace’s _Odes_ , mentioned by Stephen in the letter he wrote to Jace.

March 1990

_You are the son of Marcus Alastair Herondale and Imogen Suzanna Herondale, correct?_

“Yes.”

_Please state the date of when the marriage ceremony between you and Amatis Graymark took place._

Stephen Herondale looked down and the witchlight torches of the Silent City made his blonde hair appear as pale as his complexion. “She’s keeping my last name.”

Zachariah made note to ask her. _Amatis Herondale, then._

“May 19, 1987.”

The Brotherhood had the answers to these questions and more. However, it was procedure to ask them and to get a divorce agreement before the Iron Sister arrived to negate the marriage runes. As Brother Zachariah sat across the table from Stephen, he found himself thinking Enoch should have dealt with this instead.

_Please state the reason for the divorce._

“Incompatibility.”

The most commonly cited explanation. 

There were whispers. More than that, rumors, accusations, and praises about this Circle that was led by the Morgenstern boy. He knew Stephen was a part of it.

_And do both parties consent to the divorce?_

“Yes,” Stephen replied, devoid emotion.

_When it comes to the separation of belongings, it is typical for them to be split evenly. However, if you wish to—_

“The house is hers and she can have anything else she asks for.”

Zachariah paused in his writing. There had been no reason to decline dealing with Stephen and Amatis Herondale. Divorces happened and the Brothers dealt with them. The others were occupied so Enoch had asked if he wanted the assignment.He had said yes, believing in his ability not to think of things past.

Perhaps too optimistically.

It must also be said he did not like Stephen. There were good reasons he and Tessa did not have roles in the lives of the last two generations of Herondales. Stephen’s current belief system, and whatever was happening with Valentine Morgenstern, were chief among them. It left Zachariah disappointed, but not above his duty.

_Are you certain?_

“Yes. Anything she wants.” It was the most confident he had sounded since the conversation started.

When they had arrived, Stephen had been stoic, but with a wealth of emotion behind his blue eyes. For her part, Amatis tried the same, but tears fell the moment she was out of Stephen’s sight.

It was not in his jurisdiction to ask Stephen why his hands curled into fists every time the word divorce was uttered or why Amatis seemed torn between pleading with Stephen and ignoring him completely. Yet these looks were familiar. He’d seen the same longing and regret in these rooms decades ago.

Zachariah couldn’t help the couple then, despite his worry and care for them. He couldn’t help these two now, strangers who thought themselves far above Downworlders.

_Would you like to transfer possession of the home to her immediately?_

“Yes. I’ve already moved most of my things to Herondale manor. It’s where I will live when I marry my fiancee.”

Then there was Céline Montclaire. He remembered the girl from the Paris Shadow Market. He’d believed her to be a kindred spirit, filled with pain and love and longing for a Herondale out of reach. He didn’t know what to think of her now, nor what compelled Stephen to leave his current wife when he mentioned Céline with such apathy.

_Very well. Amatis will have ownership of your current home as well as anything else she requests._

He wrote down the details and stood. _The mutual agreement and absence of children make these proceedings simple and quick. I will walk you both through what the Iron Sister will do when it is time, but for now, I will ask one last time if you are certain that you wish to proceed. The process cannot be stopped once it has begun._

“I’m sure,” Stephen said. “I want to be done with this.” 

Maybe it was his tone, the forceful adamancy of it, but another coldly composed face was brought to mind, someone who had once sat where Stephen sat, a lifetime ago. _“Cousin Jem, I am certain. Let me be done with this.”_

Cordelia had held herself together well that day too.

It was not his place to say anything, he reminded himself. This man, boy really, was as far from his dear cousin as one could be. A random Silent Brother’s words wouldn’t mean anything to Stephen Herondale. _Do you have any questions before I leave to speak with Amatis?_

“How much will it hurt? Cutting the marriage runes?”There wasn't fear in his eyes, but something Zachariah could not decipher.

_The process is not excruciating, but it is painful._

“Is there…” Stephen visibly wavered. He looked down and plucked at the hem of his grey shirt, resolutely not looking at Zachariah.“Is there any way Amatis doesn’t have to feel the pain?”

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that. _There is none. For the divorce ceremony to be completed, both runes on both individuals must be cut in half._

“Understood.” There was still some hesitation in his face.

_Is there something else?_

“Amatis’s mother is an Iron Sister.”

_The Brotherhood is aware._

Stephen rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Amatis _—_ she wouldn’t want to see her. Can you make sure that whoever comes isn’t her mother?”

So he was not all callousness and apathy. _I will ensure that the Iron Sister overseeing the ceremony is not her mother._

A curt nod was his only reply. Zachariah worked to finish the document in front him.

“This is for the best.” Stephen whispered quietly, once, then twice. As if it were a mantra.

Another issue with this all: for a husband and wife that wanted to divorce as quickly as possible, Stephen and Amatis did not act as if they wanted it to end. Most couples that went through the process were angry or tired or both, they didn't have spirits as fragile as glass as these two did. It was achingly similar to the last Herondale divorce he’d overseen.

He could not to dwell on it. Those memories were brought up only in the darkest hours, when his grip on his old life slipped so far away he nearly couldn't remember a time when emotions were almost tangible. Besides, these two were not remotely like James and Cordelia.

Zachariah slid the divorce agreement to Stephen. It held the details that they’d been discussing for the past hour and at the bottom were two blanks that would be signed before the runes were cut.

Barely glancing at the paper, Stephen slid it back. “It seems good, thank you.”

Zachariah waited. He remembered Cordelia’s pain and doubt, the desire to talk someone even if it didn’t change anything. For all his disbelief at Stephen’s bigotry, he wanted to give this Herondale boy a chance. How could he not?

Stephen looked at him, brows furrowing at the stillness in the middle of the room. He waited, for something, anything to give him a sign that perhaps the blood of his friend was in this boy’s heart. Then Stephen’s eyes darted away nervously. Like most Shadowhunters, he was uncomfortable around members of the Brotherhood. It was the reminder Zachariah needed.

_I will return after I have spoken with Amatis. If she agrees to the terms, then we will begin._

* * *

March 1905

Parchment robes silently slid over stone as Brother Zachariah thought of what lay before him. Jeremiah had directed the two to separate rooms, but it was now up to him to begin the process.

Still thinking of his conversation with Tessa and Will, he entered the procedural section of the Silent City without any idea as to why Cordelia was divorcing James.

There had been an upset when they had announced it over dinner, but all the pair had said was that it was amicable and final. Will had called on him when the meal had finished, with the excuse of a sprained ankle. There wasn’t one, of course, only a bruise.

“I can’t believe it,” Will had said, staring into the fireplace. “They seemed so happy just weeks ago. Now, our son will not even tell us what has happened. We cannot even talk him out of this.”

“They were very insistent on not celebrating their first anniversary,” Tessa reminded him, even while looking troubled. “And it _is_ their decision.”

James and Cordelia had looked happy when he had last seen them. Yet who was he to say what truly happened in a marriage, even with two people he believed he knew well?

Will sighed. In the shadowed light of the room, his frown lines deepened. “I know that, but something doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t disagree with that.” Tessa stood near Jem, gaze thoughtful. Both wore similar expressions of worry.

_They did not give any reason?_ He had asked, standing near his friends with his hood pushed back.

“No,” Tessa told him, fiddling with the gold chain she wore. “When I pulled him aside, all James would say was that it was his fault and a long time coming.”

_Has Cordelia returned to Cornwall Gardens or is she at the townhome?_

“Cornwall Gardens,” she replied. “With Risa and her baby brother.”

“If this were a normal divorce, I’d be heartbroken but supportive.” Will ran a hand through his hair before pouring himself a brandy. “It’s just _—_ I’ve never seen James like this. Or Cordelia.”

Tessa wrapped her arms around herself. “I know.”

_Has Lucie said anything?_

Will and Tessa exchanged a look. “After what happened with the Blackthorns and Alastair,” Tessa said, more tired than before. “Lucie says Cordelia will still not speak to her.”

The reminder of the horrors of the past year and the little left of Cordelia’s family brought a solemn quiet.

_Alastair returns from his sentence at Scholomance in two months._ He said eventually. _Perhaps then some hurt will heal._

“That’s what I told Lucie,” Will said. He twirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Now, I'm not so sure. We believed that at the very least, Cordelia and James had each other during the Jesse Blackthorn mess, and that it may bring Luce and her together again, but clearly that was wrong.”

_I will speak with them when they come to the Silent City. I will try to find out what has happened._

Will had relaxed but Tessa still looked troubled. “If they make it to the Silent City, they may tell you something, but it will change nothing. I just care if they are alright.”

Truthfully, he had been just as surprised as they were. Zachariah had seen the love of the Herondales in James’ eyes when he looked at Cordelia, and she equally enamored. He did not get the opportunity to speak to either of them before the day of the arbitration, but no Iron Sister had been called. There may yet be time.

At least that was what he believed until he saw Cordelia. Sitting in one of the wooden chairs, her hands were folded neatly in her lap. A forest green ribbon held back her hair, matching her dress. Her inscrutable expression greeted him as he entered the room she had been placed in.

_Cordelia._

“Hello, Jem,” she greeted. Upon her initial arrival in London, Cordelia had treated him warmly. There was none of her usual smiles and humor now. With dark circles under her eyes, her posture was all stoicism and squared shoulders. She looked very much like Sona. “I wasn’t sure if it would be you overseeing the process.”

_Would you prefer I did not?_

“No, of course not,” Cordelia assured quickly. “But I know you have a great love for the Herondales. I didn’t think you would wish to be part of this.”

_They are family to me_ , he admitted. _But you are my family too._

“Even if I divorce James?” There was the smallest shake in the question.

_I do not value a marriage that ties Will’s and I's families over you and James’s individual happiness._ He walked over to the table and took a seat. _We have not had time to speak before today. Are you alright?_

“I am as alright as I can be.” Her face remained unwaveringly guarded. “And before you ask, yes, we are sure this is what we want.”

_I suspect many have asked you that these past weeks._

Her gaze fixed on the wall behind him. “There have been some questions.”

He waited to see if she would say anything else. She did not _. Would you like to talk about what has happened?_

“There is nothing to discuss,” Cordelia said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “I'm fine. We are simply ill-suited for each other, as I’m sure he's already told you.”

_I have not spoken with James yet. I wished to speak with you first._ Surprise flickered on her face as she looked back to him, but it vanished just as quickly. _If I may say, you do not look fine._

Cordelia exhaled and lost some of her severity. “Jem,” she said quietly. Her clenched hands relaxed. “I’m very tired.”

_With your father and mother passed and Alastair at Scholomance, distress and exhaustion are understandable._

Her face crumbled at the mention of her mother’s death. “This has been the worst year. I thought it would be a dream of dreams, not every nightmare come to life. I just want it to end.”

_What happened?_

She stared at her hands. As gently as he could he advised _, Pain and secrets bottled up can feel safer, but they wear down even the strongest spirits._

“After all that I’ve had to bear, a little more won’t hurt,” she whispered.

_Perhaps, but I am open to listening if you are open to telling. Divorce is not something that can be undone._

“It's too long a story.” Her voice was not filled anger, but resignation. Taking her eyes off the Carstairs ring she'd been fiddling with, she said, “Cousin Jem, I am certain. Let me be done with this.”

_Cordelia—_

“Please,” she whispered, tone laced with defeat. He believed he was seeing what Will meant by them not seeming well. There was a hollowness to her cheeks, a wariness in her eyes.

_Cordelia Carstairs, why have you come to the Silent City?_

There was no hesitation when she spoke. “I wish to divorce my husband, James Herondale.” 

_What is the reason for the divorce?_

Her brows furrowed. “Must I choose a reason?”

_If possible._

“Incompatibility, then.”

_Is that truly why?,_ he tried one last time.

Her brown eyes, dark like her mother’s had been, like Alastair’s were, looked straight at him. “He has never loved me and he never will. I accepted it once but I can’t anymore.” It was not an answer Zachariah had been expecting. It had not even been a possibility.He’d considered the Blackthorn business, what had happened with Alastair, or even just the uncertainty of young couples, to be their reason for being here, but not that. The idea was unfathomable, but Cordelia seemed so certain. The shining hero who was his cousin was wounded and weary, not doubtful.

_I have seen the two of you together._

Cordelia looked away, expression pinched. “Our situation is…complicated. To explain our marriage would take hours, but please believe me when I say James is not to be blamed here. He and I know the truth of the situation.”

_What is the truth?_

“That the great love of his life is not me. That is all I will say.”

_Then I will not ask._ He was more confused than he had been before. He must speak with James.

She smoothed down the front of her skirt. “What is next?”

_Regarding separation of property, things are typically split evenly._

“There’s no need. What was mine will stay mine, what was his, his. Any gifts from the wedding can be his as well.”

_The Herondales have said they would like you to have the townhouse._

“I do not want it.”

_If you need time to think about it, you need not decide today._

Chin raised and face severe, she looked an awful lot like Alastair. “Jem, the townhouse is his. Even if James and his parents say otherwise, I don’t want that palace of memories. I will only take what is mine.”

The year had not been kind to Cordelia. Zachariah would not add to it. _The townhouse will be James' then._

* * *

March 1990

_Mrs. Herondale? Do you wish to continue?_

It was common for couples to be upset, but with an air of acceptance. They cried happy or sad tears, sighed in relief or sorrow at the finality of it all. The young woman before him did none of that. Amatis appeared as if she was lost as to how she came to be there. He pitied her, in the distant way he could.

“I suppose,” she mumbled.

_Will you be keeping the name Herondale? Or will you return to being called Amatis Graymark?_

A watery laugh escaped her. It was a bitter, aching sound. “I will still be Amatis Herondale.”

The questioning went on like that, him gently prodding and her half a step away from breaking. Amatis did not want to be there, and he wondered what Stephen had said to get her to agree to this so quickly. Perhaps it hadn’t taken much. When the person you love said they wanted out, to be done with your marriage and you, it cut the rope tying you together clean. If they were desperate to be done, it was beyond what you could argue.

Eventually, her questioning reached its end. _Stephen has said you may have whatever you would like from your shared home._

And it was then Amatis burst into tears. Her loud, hiccuped sobs echoed in the room and he lay his pen down. Once he retrieved a handkerchief from his robes, he handed it to her. She took it while sniffling, nodding in thanks.

She was the embodiment of what it was to lose someone, yet Stephen was not dead or gone. Instead he was willingly leaving. Zachariah wanted to help her but didn’t know how. Nothing could.

_Those who would forsake you are not worthy of your heart. However desolate you may feel now, happiness can be found in other places._

Surprised stopped her tears. She looked at him hesitantly. “He hasn’t forsaken me, not out of his own decision.”

_Whose decision could it be other than yours and his?_

Amatis paled. “It doesn’t matter.”

_It does._

She shook her head resolutely. “Nothing matters. Why he’s leaving. The things in the house. My last name.” The handkerchief crumpled in her palm. "It will still be over."

The misdirection doesn't go unnoticed, but he left it alone. _If he is leaving you, that is his decision of folly. No one else’s._

Her tears began anew and she mumbled a string of words. All he made out was _Valentine._ He had heard enough of the Circle to fill in the blanks. His opinion of Stephen did not improve.

She wiped away her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

_There is nothing to apologize for._

The apprehension she’d had near him before waned. Behind her grief and anger was gratitude. She cleared her throat and smoothed the handkerchief into a neat square. “Whatever Stephen doesn't come to retrieve by the end of the week, I’ll assume is mine.”

_I will inform him of this._

Though Stephen and Amatis were nothing like them, echoes of London and long dead loved ones reverberated through Zachariah’s mind as the day wore on. In Stephen’s stoicism he had seen Cordelia, though his cousin had been filled with exhaustion and hurt, not blinded by bigotry and misguided ideals. James had been similar to Amatis; hidden tears and unbridled pain. The difference being James had accepted a divorce because he’d believed he deserved it. Amatis didn’t seem to have the fight in her.

“He will not come,” Amatis whispered, staring at the stone walls.

_“She will never forgive me.”_

Memories. They were an odd thing.

* * *

March 1905

_We do not need to continue right now._

James continued to stare listlessly at his hands. Zachariah was unsure how to proceed, Cordelia’s confession still fresh in his mind. _Should you wish it, there may still be a chance to fix your relationship with Cordelia. I have not yet sent for an Iron Sister._

Seated in the wooden chair, James shut his eyes. “You should, Uncle Jem. I don’t want you getting in trouble because we skipped procedure.” Zachariah watched as he rubbed his bare wrist. Where he normally wore his silver bracelet was now just a paler stripe of skin.

_What has happened?_ He asked in a way he reserved for Lucie and James.

“It would be easier for me to say what hasn’t happened.”

Brother Zachariah would have sighed had been able to. _Then state your full name and the names of your parents._

Leaning back in his seat, he opened his eyes and stared into his lap. “I am James Grayson Herondale, son of William Owen Herondale and Theresa Elizabeth Gray.”

_State the date of when the marriage ceremony between you and Cordelia Carstairs occurred._

“February 7, 1904.”

It had just been a year, he lamented. _Please state the reason for the divorce._

“Incompatibility.”

_And do both parties consent to it?_

“Yes.” James’ voice was battered. Looking at him, the boy he had watched grow up be so torn apart hurt Zachariah in turn.

_James._ He wanted to hear in James’s own words what had happened. _What have you done that you view so unforgivable?_

“You can’t tell my mother and father,” he whispered. “Or anyone else.”

_What you say here will stay between us._ He meant it; he would not betray James or Cordelia’s confidence.

“I promised her faithfulness and I broke it.”

There were few times that he was made speechless nowadays. This was one of them. When James looked at him in shame, he finally broke free of his stunned silence. _In what ways? Does it involve the Blackthorn girl?_

James flinched. “Doesn’t it always with me?”

Any hope that Cordelia had been mistaken drifted away. Even with James’ confession he struggled to believe it. Herondales were loyal, in friendship and in love. James was like that too, a tenderhearted boy who loved fiercely. _This doesn’t involve Alastair?_

“Alastair is just one of my sins.” He dug his nails into his wrist and Zachariah placed a hand on his shoulder.

_That was not your fault._

“Maybe not, but I should have been there for Cordelia. Instead I was off trying to hide Lucie because Grace told me to. I didn't know she would blame it all on him. I didn't know he would let her, to save my sister.”

The Clave’s questioning of Alastair had been short and brutal. Grace’s weeping excuses had accused him of a desire to revive his parents, testing it on the anomaly that was Jesse Blackthorn. Alastair had stood by with quiet acceptance, while Matthew Fairchild had had to hold back a raging Cordelia. Zachariah had done what he could; he'd spoken out and gotten the sentencing lessened to Scholomance. _“Thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness after what I've said to you and others,"_ Alastair had said before they took him away. _"Please do no more. This is penance.”_

“She needed me during her darkest hours and I wasn't there,” James went on, bringing him back to the present. He'd pushed up his sleeves, making it as wrinkled as his waistcoat and pants. “Cordelia needed the barest necessities of friendship, not even marriage, and I didn’t even give her that. Instead I went to Grace after the trial to ensure she was safe.” His eyes shone.

Before he could think of what to say, James leaned his forearms on his knees. “That is just one of the things that led us here. So no, we can not fix us.”

_Have you tried to?_

“No. If there were a rope tying us together, Cordelia would want it cut clean. If I’ve caused her enough pain to warrant that, then I shouldn't try.”

_When love is strong, there is little that will not be forgiven._

“I do love her so extraordinarily much,” The admission was said breathlessly, as if he’d held it back for so long and it was a relief to say it now. Zachariah could tell he meant it, so why did Cordelia think James did not love her? “But no magic can be blamed for everything I’ve done. They were my choices,” James announced in hollow declaration. “She will never forgive me. She shouldn’t.”

Zachariah tilted his head. _What do you mean no magic can be blamed?_

James swallowed. “I mean the necromancy."

It wouldn't take a genius to know that there was something important both were hiding. His confusion grew with every question answered. _Have you told Cordelia any of this?_

“I haven't,” James admitted. “It wouldn’t matter. It would not take away of the hurt I’ve caused her. And now that Matthew has—” He stopped and sighed. “I will not deny her happiness.”

_The truth has the power to heal. Maybe you should let her hear it before you decide it does not matter._

“After everything, I owe her this,” James repeated adamantly. _This is penance_ , Alastair had said with the same certainty. This generation had once been covered in light, so happy and free. If only they could have stayed that way. “I believe that.”

_And I believe that even the most torn relationships can be mended. You know of the love between your parents, and between them and me. You come from a line where love is unwavering and devoted, everything and all._

“And that she is to me." There was no hope in James' voice, just finality. “But it’s too late, Uncle Jem.”

They were frustratingly stubborn, these two. Cordelia was stung and betrayed. James was full of painful repentance and secrets. Tessa had warned that if they reached the City of Bones still insistent on this path then there wouldn't be much he could do. As usual, she was right.

Reluctantly, they finished the divorce agreement after James refused to say more beyond the relevant questions. He called them both back and to his amazement, James and Cordelia smiled at each other. James’ smile was bright and forced, Cordelia’s distant. There seemed to be a mutual show of understanding between them, though it was transparent to him.

He led them before the Speaking Stars and explained the process, at a loss of what else to do.

_The Iron Sister will ask for your arm first. The cut will sever the connection between the two of you._ He told them, Cordelia touched her wedded union rune absently. _The rune on your chest will be more painful. It will hurt, it will burn, but it will be the end._

James glanced at Cordelia. When she nodded, he did as well.

Zachariah had tried, yet standing on the gem embedded floors, a great sense of failure washed over him. How they could be so willing to keep things from the other in the name of protection? With so much he still didn’t know, he could not intervene any more than he already had. Above all else, he wanted them well. If this was the way to that, then he would stay his hand, however reluctantly.

Any last minute efforts he had considered were soon forgotten. The Iron Sister arrived, with a walk silent enough to rival the Gregori.

James and Cordelia stared as Sister Dolores appeared before them, her white dress flowing around her ankles despite the lack of breeze in the Silent City.

“James and Cordelia Herondale, I am Sister Dolores and I have come to cut the ties between you.” She removed a long stele from her sleeve, thinner and longer than the ones used by other Nephilim. The pair straightened, as if they were readying for a battle against a swarm of Greater demons. 

His presence was not required beyond this point in the process. Instead of leaving, he moved off to the side. Sister Dolores did not comment on it.

“I will cut the rune on your arm, then your chest,” Dolores announced, brandishing the thin stele, cradling it, and speaking in a low voice in Latin. There was much Zachariah wanted to say and do. He did none of it.

Cordelia seemed enraptured by the woman, looking at the demon wire tying her arms and wrists. James did not look well.

“Daisy,” he interrupted. Everyone in the room stopped. Cordelia turned to him with wide eyes. From the moment they’d entered the same room, Cordelia’s face had become softer but blanker, James more understanding. In both was longing and regret that the other didn't see.

“Yes?” Cordelia responded, fiddling with the Carstairs ring on her right hand.

“I—” James paused. His next words came out in a rush. “I hope one day we can be friends again.”

Multiple emotions passed her face, until she gave a slow, sad, but genuine smile. “I hope so too, James.”

Sister Dolores watched expressionless. “Shall we begin?”

He had warned them this was final.

“Yes,” James declared, offering his arm. Cordelia hesitated but nodded a moment later.

He thought of what he would tell Will and Tessa. How could he explain that their son had been through something he refused to discuss? Or that Cordelia had wounds deeper than they could know? 

Neither James or Cordelia flinched at the cut of the first marriage rune. The one on the arms tended to be met with a lesser pain; it was the preliminary cut, a stepping stone. The rune over the heart was the real hurt.

Zachariah had never been married. His engagement to Tessa had never made it so far as runes. He could only imagine what it felt like to be tied to someone that way and then have it cut in a single motion. In these moments, he got a glimpse of that pain.

“The one on your chest is next,” Dolores announced.

James pulled aside his collar with jerking hands and Cordelia did the same. Sister Dolores spoke more Latin, gazing intently at each rune. She then lifted the stele and swiftly cut the wedded union runes on both their chests, in half and in quick succession.

Cordelia reached out a hand to steady herself against the wall, cradling her chest with her other. Her breathes were ragged. James had doubled over, his hair covering his face. After what was the longest minute he had experienced, tensing besides a steady Sister Dolores, they recovered.Slowly, they returned to their former standing positions. Tears shined in their eyes.

“It is done,” Dolores announced, fiery eyes betraying nothing. “James Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, the ties between you are severed. You are married no longer.”

Before this day, he had thought the divorce ceremony a bit anti-climactic. A day or two of hammered out details, muttered words and two cuts from an Iron Sister, and the union was done.To these two, the children he cared for and knew cared deeply for each other, this was wretched. If he was capable of comforting them, he would reach out and hug James, who looked incredibly lost. He would put a hand on Cordelia’s grief-stricken shoulder and tell her that healing was a long road, but one she was strong enough to endure.

Sister Dolores said her farewells and with a nod to him, she vanished as quickly as she came.

Before Jem could make his way to the pair, Cordelia reached out and grabbed James’s hand. He did not hesitate to intertwine their fingers. They looked at the other, gazes unreadable. James’s thumb ran back and forth on the back Cordelia’s palm and she tightened her grip. They didn't speak.

These two will regret this, he thought. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but the love in their eyes they so desperately tried to hide would not be easily squashed. Cordelia had said she was not James’s great love, but in that moment Zachariah was certain she was.

He wished he could let them be, but it grew late and the City of Bones was no place for them. _When you are ready, I will walk you both out._

Both of their heads snapped to him, as if they had forgotten he was there. They probably had. Cordelia pulled away, leaving James's outreached hand.

With Cordelia on one side and James on the other, the three of them made their way out of the Silent City. James’s kept his hand on his chest as they navigated the halls. When marble and stone gave way to London’s gray skies, Zachariah saw someone waiting among the graves of the cemetery: Matthew Fairchild, arms crossed over his chest.

In what would have been comical under any other circumstance, James and Cordelia froze mid-step as they saw him. Cordelia glanced at James, who gave her a careful smile. Zachariah assumed Matthew was there for his _parabatai_ , to comfort him. He was glad for it. James was pale and one needed to lean on their sworn brother during times such as these.

The pair said their goodbyes to Zachariah, and with a lingering look at Cordelia, James tore his gaze away.He made his way toward Matthew and Cordelia waited uncertainly a few steps awayfrom the exit of the Silent City. When James reached Matthew, he said something Zachariah couldn't hear. Matthew responded equally quiet, shaking his head and reaching for James’ shoulder. James patted his _parabatai_ ’s hand affectionately, but there was a stiffness to the gesture. He walked away as soon as his friend dropped his arm, not looking back.

Zachariah watched in confusion as Matthew turned to Cordelia and she walked quicklyover, the two conversing in low tones.

He thought of going after James, of going to the Institute to see Will and Tessa.

_You have not been called_ , his Brothers chorused in his mind. _The job is done._

Only as he turned away did he see Matthew wrap his arms around Cordelia as she buried her face into his shoulder.

As he watched them embrace, he decided on what he would tell Will and Tessa when he saw them next: this story was more complicated than even the three of them could understand.

* * *

March 1990

Sister Iphigenia arrived as Stephen and Amatis signed their divorce agreement. Amatis stiffened when she saw her approach but relaxed after the Sister’s face became clear. Stephen’s hand twitched by his side but he said nothing.

As the Iron Sister asked set down her bag, Zachariah explained the process then watched them as they stood on the Speaking Stars.

At this stage, it was normal for tears, anger, and bitter silences. What he saw on the faces of Stephen and Amatis made him, for the second time in his life, want to stop the ceremony all together.

Stephen was pale, paler than he had been in the room when Zachariah had been questioning him. As much as he hated comparing his brave hearted cousin to this boy laced with indecision and bigotry, Stephen wore a similar pained determination. It was the expression of someone who would not turn back.

More composed than she’d been before, Amatis didn’t look to the man next to her. They were here because of choices, no matter who had given them.

Iphigenia asked for Stephen’s arm first, his wedded union rune was on his hand. The room was quiet save for the necessary whisperings of the Iron Sister.

When she raised the stele, it glittered in the low light. Then, she dragged it across Stephen’s wedded union rune. He scowled, eyes darkening. Amatis’s fists clenched, nails digging into her palm.

She then asked for Amatis’s arm, whose hand went slack when she offered it to Sister Iphigenia.

After an entire day of avoiding his wife’s gaze, Stephen finally turned to Amatis. The stele was raised again and she didn’t look back even as a tear slid down her cheek. There was no visible look of pain as the rune was cut in half.

“The one upon your hearts will be more painful,” Iphigenia warned.

“Brother Zachariah has told us,” Amatis said. She and Stephen both pulled down the collars of their shirt and in a swift motion, she quickly ran the stele across the rune over Stephen’s heart and then over Amatis’s.

They both reacted to this. Stephen stifled a noise, grasping at his chest with both hands and Amatis’s tears flowed freely as she did the same.

“It is done. Stephen William Herondale, Amatis Belinda Herondale, the ties between you two are cut. You are no longer married,” Iphigenia proclaimed. After examining the pair for a moment, she began gathering her things. She nodded to Zachariah as she left and he did the same, though he was more focused on the pair in front of him.

Amatis stared at the floor and made no move to wipe away her tears. Stephen stared in the direction Sister Ipigenia had left, hand on his chest.

Zachariah began to walk forward to offer to walk them out. Before he could, Amatis stormed away without looking at her former husband. Zachariah noticed Stephen’s shaking hands and wondered how this man who bore the blood and name of his _parabatai_ could be so cowardly.

What would it be like to reach over and shake Stephen? To try and get him to see reason beyond whatever manipulation the Morgenstern boy had used on him?

No. Just as he had told Amatis, this was Stephen’s choice and Zachariah had no place in questioning it. Stephen was not Will or James or Owen. If rumors were correct, Stephen killed Downworlders, whose blood he unknowingly shared. Stephen would hate Tessa, would kill her if he could. There wasn’t anything he could do to help a boy like that.

Loud footsteps echoed in the halls as Stephen ran in the direction Amatis went.

The right thing to do would be to return to his desk, update the Herondale family tree, file the divorce agreement and send it to Alicante’s property office. Instead, he stood alone before the Speaking Stars.

Updating the family tree would require seeing names he hadn’t seen for ages. It meant remembering Will’s smile and knowing it was gone forever. It meant seeing James and Cordelia's names, knowing their bones were burned, added to the very place he stood.

That Herondale boy was all that was left of Will's line. 

He followed them. At the very least, he must ensure they found their way out.

By the time he found them, they'd made it far. The two were near the exit by the time he could make out their voices.

“—would be alright?”

“You wanted this,” Amatis’s broken voice accused. “You promised me you’d never leave and here we are. Now you think to beg me to speak to you? To _write_ to you?”

“Things turned out differently than we thought they would,” Stephen said with an edge of desperation. “But I still want to know how you are. I understand if you don’t want to hear from me right away, but we can’t stop speaking all together. I can’t.”

Silence.

“Please. Just letters. You won’t ever have to see me again.”

“Stephen—”

“Darli—Amatis. I don’t know if I…I would like it if we could write to each other. Please.” 

There was great selfishness in Stephen. In the following silence, he was sure Amatis would refuse. When she whispers a strained, “Fine.” he is both bewildered and not. It was an odd agreement to give the man who had just broken her heart, but perhaps that is why she agreed.

Zachariah wondered if he should have intervened.

James and Cordelia had had a happy ending. They’d remarried eventually, following a short lived courtship between Matthew and Cordelia and a war headed by Belial and Tatiana Blackthorn. He was not so sure a happy fate was meant for these two.

Looking back eighty-five years, he hadn’t been able to save James or Cordelia the pain that followed their divorce. It was only time and the love they had for each other that brought them back together.

He understood Amatis and her sad eyes. He had less generous thoughts for Stephen. This was the life he’d carved out.

Zachariah turned away as the two left the City of Bones. Walking the path back to his chambers, where he had stayed since his very first night in the Silent City all those years ago, and he remembered.

He remembered Cordelia and her enduring spirit, the light that returned to her when Alastair had come back. James, the boy who he loved as a son, reaching out to Cordelia when he could bear it no longer, finding her halfway there. The look of love on their faces the day they remarried, an occasion he had been present for because Will conveniently injured his collarbone that morning. He remembered performing the protection ceremony over their first born, Owen Alastair.

Stephen Herondale and Amatis Graymark were a broken pair, clinging to jagged pieces even if it cut the other to do so. A pair in which one was willing to give the other up because of orders, not because of love and guilt.

No, they were not like James and Cordelia at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The divorce process would take longer if either couple 1) had any children 2) argued about belongings 3) any type of disagreement. Since they had none of those, I made it a short thing. Unrealistic? Maybe, but I decided to give my girl Amatis a break. P.S. i just knoooow when Gracelet comes off James is going to be such a simp. My sighs are ready.
> 
> I also have to say even though I make Lucie seem like a bad friend, I adore her. I just think her secrets are the most frustrating and will have the most consequences, not for her but the people around her.
> 
> I'm trying to write the companion piece to this but it's long and i'm unmotivated so pls bully me in a month if it isn't here lol


End file.
